


SnowBaz Drabble Compilation

by pyunna_98



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyunna_98/pseuds/pyunna_98
Summary: Essentially, fic ideas, headcanons, and scenes that I'll write in the form of drabbles instead of turning into one-shots or full-blown fanfics.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. (Don’t Need You to) Fix Me

**Simon**

We’re fighting again.

I don’t even remember how we got here (I probably started it). All I’m registering is Baz’ lip is wobbling, and tears are forming in the corner of his eyes. And it’s all my fault (but what’s new).

“Merlin, Snow!” he sounds so defeated, “I don’t  _ want  _ you to fix me!”

“I never  _ asked  _ you to fix me!” his voice is rasing, he’s almost shouting, “I don’t  _ expect _ you fix me!”

I don’t respond. My eyes meet his for a moment, but I quickly shift them away, ashamed.

He lets out a huff of air, and it’s like a dam has been broken. He starts to openly sob in front of me, tears streaming down his cheeks, little hiccups of breath.

I hate that I’ve caused this. I hate that I can’t even remember what I said that led to this argument. I hate that I can’t even look him in the eye, even though I’m the one that started this.

I decided to just pull him into my chest, tucking his head into space between my shoulder and neck.

He doesn’t resist nor pull away; rather, he scrambles atop my lap, long legs bent on either side of my hips.

I soothingly rub circles into his back with one hand, and stroke his hair with the other.

“All I want, Simon,” he says once he’s finally caught his breath, sniffling into my neck, “is for you to be here with me as I fix myself.”

“And…” he says, pulling away from my neck to look into my eyes, “I want you to let me be there for  _ you  _ as you fix  _ yourself. _ ”

I stare in awe at this beautiful boy in lap - this wonderful, amazing, gorgeous boy in my lap, with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks - and I fall in love all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Baz**

It was Simon’s idea (mostly).

I mean, I’m sure he said it as a joke. It was my decision to actually push through with it.

Even though it’s summer time, and floral  _ should  _ be fashionable and “in” now, I can’t seem to find anything appealing or remotely good.

I had finally found something perfect - it was made of pink silk, with lilacs embroidered in varying shades of lavender - before I realised it was a woman’s blouse.

“Just buy it, Baz,” Simon had said jokingly, “you could literally pull anything off, maybe even a trash bag.”

We walked away from that store that day empty-handed.

I ended up going back less than two days later because I just  _ had  _ to buy that blouse - it was perfect.

Simon didn’t even comment on it (he probably already forgot). He just kissed me on the cheek and told me I looked good.

* * *

The second time I ventured into buying “feminine” clothing, it was an accident.

We had just finished our exams and Simon had the  _ bright  _ idea to go clubbing to celebrate

I didn’t particularly want to go out and party (since I’m a light-weight), so I compromised. If Simon would go with me shopping and let me dress him for the night out, I’d keep my complaints to a minimum.

He grumbled and complained good-naturedly the whole time, while I dressed him up in dark-wash skinny jeans that accentuated his arse perfectly, and a light blue button-up with palm leaf outlines that stretched over his broad shoulders and chest divinely.

I ended up buying an outfit to match his. With tasteful ripped skinny jeans and a sheer black long-sleeved top with a tiny little red-black rose pattern. I only went with it, because the moment I stepped out of the fitting room, Simon was practically drooling at the sight of me. Demanding I change out, so we could pay, and go straight home.

I hadn’t realized it was a woman’s top until Agatha asked me if she could borrow it the next time we went out.

* * *

The third time I wore “women’s” clothing, it wasn’t so much a decisions, as it was a necessity.

Fiona had been experimenting with a cleaning spell, and she decided to test it on  _ my  _ clothes. To sum it up, I was left with the choice of wearing either my pyjamas, clothes that were 10 sizes too big, or something out of Fiona’s closet to school.

I’ve never been a morning person, and Fiona didn’t think it was pertinent enough to wake me up once the chaos ensued, so I was already running late.

I could have easily chosen one of her oversized jeans and paired it with a basic shirt or something.

But Fiona has this lovely dark blue full-body romper, with a sunflower pattern of varying sizes; I swear the blue matches Simon’s eyes, and the centre of the flower his hair. I’ve always mildly envied it

I surprisingly don’t get any comments from any of my teachers or peers when I enter my first class. At some point, I even forget what it is I’m wearing. For the most part, it’s actually very comfortable (the only inconvenience is when I needed to use the loo).

When I’m finally done for the day, and head over to Simon and Bunce’s flat for dinner I’m satisfied to confirm that the blue and bronze of my outfit  _ do  _ match Simon’s eyes and hair.

* * *

The fourth time I find myself wearing “women’s” clothing, it’s very much a conscious decision. I’ve come to the conclusions that clothes don’t have a gender, and I should be able to wear whatever I want.

Simon was promoted to Assistant Manager at the bakery he’s been working part-time; and to celebrate he wanted to take me out on a  _ proper _ date (his words, not mine, any date we have is already a proper date to me).

He hasn’t told me where we were going, just that he could take me somewhere “fancier” than usual. I told him I didn’t care if we were just going to order in and watch a movie, but he insisted.

I decide to wear this dark green satin dress I had bought for the  _ right  _ occasion.

I’m pretty sure, tonight is the  _ right  _ occasion.

It’s a pretty dress, although, I’m (mostly) sure its meant to be lingerie. It has a cowl neckline and lowcut back. It’s quite short on my, reaching only my mid-thigh, so I pair it with black high waist slacks.

I’m contemplating whether to wear a jacket over it or something when my doorbell rings.

I pad across the flat barefoot to answer the door.

I smile fondly at Simon, my eyes creeping downward to the bouquet of flowers he holding awkwardly in front of him.

“My, my, Snow,” I tease leaning against the door frame, “what have we here?”

“What are you wearing?” he says sounding shocked, eyes running up and down my frame.

“Why?” I immediately straighten up, sneering at him, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Huh?” he shakes his head, eyes shooting to me mine, “Nothing, nothing, I meant, you look- it’s just- um- ah”

“Spit it out, Snow,” I say impatiently. I immediately regret having not just picking out a jacket to wear over (he’s making me insecure).

“Just-” he says, walking into my space “wow!”

I melt against him, wrapping my arms around his neck as his circles my waist.

We’re kissing and he’s walking me backwards into the flat. Dropping the bouquet on the counter, kicking the door shut.

By the time we’ve reached the bedroom I’ve already removed his shirt, and he’s pulled my slacks down.

“Fuck, Baz,” he says right as he’s about to push me onto the bed “Fuck, you’re in a dress.”

“Astute observation, Snow,” I’d be offended if he didn’t look so turned on by the fact.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful” he shakes his head, gently guiding me onto the bed, settling himself between my bent knees.

“Can I take it off you?” he says as he peppers kisses across my chest, rubbing the bottom of the dress between his fingers.

“Yeah-” I pant, “yes please”

“This little garden pattern on the bottom of the dress kinda reminds me of your garden back home in Hampshire.”

In the end, we don’t make it to Simon’s fancy restaurant. We decided to stay in and… watch a movie.


End file.
